


Survivor Guilt

by EarlGrayscale



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Post-Virmire, kaidan/male shepard, kaidan/shepard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 23:28:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10685106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarlGrayscale/pseuds/EarlGrayscale
Summary: Virmire was a mission success. Shepard wanted to believe that. He was no stranger to death. But that didn’t make it any easier to deal with. While wanting to re-open old wounds, Kaidan notices something is off and approaches him.





	Survivor Guilt

**Author's Note:**

> BEFORE READING  
> I know it's in the tags too, but while no self-harm is actively done, it is mentioned and referenced. So this is your content/trigger warning. I want you all to be safe.

“Commander Shepard, out.”  
The glowing figureheads of the Council left and he was again left with the gray encapsulation of the room. He had done this a share of times before. He was starting to get used to it but this time felt particularly hollow. He knew what he saw. He saw a reaper on the verge of return. He knows what will happen if they didn’t act, and act fast. The destruction brought to the Protheans was shown. As if finding Saren through the trail of bodies he leaves in his wake wasn’t enough. He didn’t know them well, if at all really. But they breathed and spoke with him, considered him one of them. And Shepard felt likewise. He spoke with them. He walked through the corridors of the Normandy remembering he once spoke with them.  
The crew was visibly shaken. Joker couldn’t even shake this off. Everything was still, quiet. It was deafening to Shepard. He couldn’t place where he could be alone besides the communication room. But he didn’t want to be there. All he saw there were ghosts. There was a room, with computers, he remembered seeing, that was usually empty. There would do. He could be safely alone. The crew didn’t follow his every step, they trusted him to not be brash. They didn’t know though. Brashness is his in his history, he wouldn’t have survived Akuze without it. He wouldn’t have had to watch what he wore without it, but with all he had seen and experienced, brashness was an ally he knew would have his back in the heat of battle. Even if the battle was entirely his own. He hadn’t needed this yet. He hadn’t needed to be alone. The crew couldn’t see his face flush, his stone demeanor crack. 

Ashley didn’t have to shoot him. If she hadn’t, he could have known. Wrex could have learned what risks were at stake. He could have realized what Saren and the reaper were doing to his race. He could have seen, if only he had just put away his gun. He couldn’t be convinced why? Why couldn’t Shepard find the words to say then. He couldn’t understand. If only he knew then what he knew now. He didn’t think much of Ashley either, much less for shooting Wrex. But she was around since the beginning. One of his first allies, a top-notch fighter, dedicated to the mission. She didn’t have to offer to go, he didn’t have to let her go. He could have abstained or, chosen someone else. 

Why did he have to be the decision maker? Yet again, he wouldn’t want anyone else to have taken this job. His skin burned with yearning. Yearning for freedom, for punishment. It was a familiar sensation. He was used to caving in but nothing was there to relieve it. He could hit something, break something, but that was too much noise. He couldn’t risk that. He couldn’t let someone else into this. He couldn’t, he couldn’t, he can’t. His thoughts reeled with images of Wrex’s body, the static surrounding Ashley’s voice, swirling ghosts of those from the colonies, his brothers in arms in Akuze. Nothing to extinguish this fire with. He had bitten his nails far enough down without more death to put on the pressure for him to keep his heroic image. He grew to hate the word “hero”, he hated it. He was no hero, he was barely a survivor. He made it through somehow but it wasn’t enough, it doesn’t take away the scars, the lingering screams. He gritted his teeth, realizing they would suffice for something. He rolled up what he could of his sleeve with the thought ‘make it quick’ reeling on repeat, ‘my fault’ in the background.   
The sound of the door opening broke the silence and shattered his conscience. Everything became still again but the air held electricity that coursed through his nerves, sounding off at every inch of his skin. Only a second had passed between the door and the voice, but it felt delayed through the ringing in his ears.  
“Commander, there you are,” Kaidan’s voice eventually made its way through. The door shut behind him while he continued approaching Shepard, who made an effort to subtly pull his sleeve back down and straighten himself out. He was used to doing this, being calm on command. He still burned though with regret, self-hatred wanted Kaidan to leave. But the act had to start before it could end.  
“What is it lieutenant?” Shepard’s voice felt robotic to him, but sounded normal when it left his mouth.  
“I saw you come in here after the call. Wanted to check on you,” Kaidan replied promptly with a sympathetic look in his eye. It was as jarring for Shepard to receive as a happy look at his survival. He wanted no reward, much less pity.  
“I appreciate the thought lieutenant. This must be as hard on you as it is everyone else,” he diverted, Kaidan’s expression became sad.  
“You checked on the rest of us already. I checked on everyone’s morale again, they’re ready to keep searching for a way to get ahead of Saren’s plans.”  
“Good work, I still have things I wanted to check on in here, you should probably check on Liara too, she seemed ill earlier.” Please leave Kaidan. You’re dealing with enough as it is, help yourself, I can handle myself. Please go. Stop worrying about me.  
“I did, she’s still resting in in the infirmary,” Kaidan reported then tensed, retaining his formality, and anxiously continued. “I actually wanted to see how you were doing Commander. You’re taking their losses pretty well considering how it all happened.”  
Shepard could see it in his eyes, he wasn’t about to back down.  
“I’ve dealt with my share of loss, I will grieve Wrex and Ashley when we take care of Saren,” his breathing shook, straining to keep himself together. He could tell Kaidan noted every change, he could see the details. Shepard couldn’t hide from him. Kaidan stood close to Shepard, feeling the heat radiating from him.   
“Shepard… I saw--,” Kaidan sighed and reached for Shepard’s arm. He jerked it away and inhaled sharply, fist clenched, bracing for a fight he didn’t want to start with him. “Sorry.”  
“Don’t be. You’re not responsible for any of this… lieutenant,” He could feel himself crumbling.  
“You aren’t either--”  
“But I am!” Shepard retorted curtly, taking Kaidan aback. “I could have told Ashley to stay, I didn’t have the right words for Wrex. I could have made a better plan with the Salarians. This should have done better-- I, should have done better Kaidan!” He caught himself shouting after calling Kaidan’s name. “It is my fault, as a soldier and a commander,” He said, out of breath. Noticing he was close to Kaidan, he backed off. He regained himself in that moment, he was shaking. Kaidan was silent, looking over Shepard, stunned. He took another step back from him. Shepard raised his head, trying in vain to hold back the tears he meant to shed alone. “Shit-- DAMMIT!” He shouted and hit the wall with the side of his fist. He trembled, for the first time in years letting himself become vulnerable in front of someone else. Longer since he let the person watching be someone he considered a friend. He became as still as he could despite his trembling. He cast his gaze downward, eluding eye contact with Kaidan. He was nervous, but held a calming presence.   
“None of us knew what Saren could do, Shepard. I don’t...” Kaidan stopped himself, noticing what he was about to say: ‘I don’t know why you chose me’. He knew Shepard didn’t need the doubt, he needed something else. Kaidan couldn’t tell what Shepard needed exactly, but he stayed aware, and said what was ready to come out. “... know how to thank you. I owe you my life, Shepard.” Shepard became a bit more still, he didn’t lift his head, but he physically relaxed some. “You refused to leave as I laid there wounded. I’m grateful that you stood wholly by me when realizing you couldn’t save us both. In that sense, I owe Ashley my life too.” Kaidan watched the lights flicker around the interface screen and crossed his arms. He watched each electric signal weave its way from the bottom to the top of the screen to distract from his developing migraine. He wouldn’t be able to stand by Shepard if he was dead. He doubted Ashley would have noticed the way the commander reacted to his death. He felt needed. He was guilty for putting himself in a position to be saved, but he reeled knowing that he could have died back there. Shepard had to decide, and he has to carry that weight. “I mean to say, thank you. And I’m sorry I couldn’t do more then. But I want to own the responsibility of being allowed my life,” Kaidan said, more firm and resolved, decided. “Look at me Shepard,” He ordered, and waited for Shepard to move while putting aside his own pain. When he didn’t, he put a hand on his shoulder, encouraging him to look at the connection he made.   
Shepard’s head shifted to the hand, shaping the outline of his arm with his eyes and followed it to Kaidan’s face. He forgot in that moment what he might have looked like. The pity was gone, the joy and honor were never there. They couldn’t have been talking for more than ten minutes, but it felt like an eternity since the last time he could be outside of his own mind. He had something else to focus on, someone else to focus on. Lost and found at the same time.   
“I’m not letting you shoulder this alone,” Kaidan said when they made eye contact. “Okay?”  
Shepard nodded, letting his arms fall to his sides. Kaidan pulled him in and wrapped his arms around him securely. Shepard never needed saving, never wanted to be held up by anyone. He hated feeling vulnerable, being treated like glass. But like Kaidan, he was grateful of his own life. He felt guilty for it every day. With each new death came another ghost, reminders of his family and old squadron. But his skin didn’t burn anymore, it didn’t crawl with an aching need to pay for being alive. He refused to let this happen again. He knew the burning would come back, and he didn’t want to burden Kaidan with survivor guilt as well. He won’t let him burden himself with comparison and be at risk for seeking relief through physical payment for his chance at life. He didn’t save him to let him die inside.   
But now, in this moment, he felt safe. The burn subsided. The ghosts fell to the wayside. He hugged his comrade back. His comrade, his companion, his friend. His… friend. Warm, strong, rational. No one knew him better. He definitely couldn’t burden his mind on him. “Thank you, Alenko.”  
“Of course,” He replied, softy. They stayed as they were for a moment. “Um, Commander.”  
“Hm?”  
“Just to be sure, none of this is on the record right?” Kaidan asked, Shepard chuckled.  
“None of it.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading!  
> Self-injury and guilt are sensitive subjects and I did what I could to honor that while not entirely shying away from it.  
> On a distinctly fandom note, I do headcanon that Shepard self-harms to keep himself accountable for his feelings and actions. He takes every bullet without fear. But I made a sole survivor and colonist, he would take these losses in Virmire pretty hard. And yes, I am waiting patiently to keep going and date Kaidan in ME3. I honestly think he had the best chemistry with Shepard in conversation and would be most qualified to approach this subject with him. Especially after living through Virmire.
> 
> On a more personal note, while there is a lot not confirmed or really assured in this, I wanted to take now to thank you for having the eyes to read this. I want to be there for everyone I can but I know it's not possible. For now though, I will always leave my inbox open regardless of what media form it comes in. I will listen to you. I can't promise everything will be better. A feeling is just that, a feeling. It is important, and they need to be addressed. But it will pass, even if it has consumed you to the point where you think there is no coming out of it, it's just blocking the light at the end of the tunnel. There will be more tunnels, a significant other isn't going to fix that. But there is an end to each one. I learned that with time and therapy. Take care of yourselves everyone.


End file.
